There are similarly dadaist stunts tonight. Pascoal plays Round Midnight on a kettle, turns two squeaky toy pigs into percussion instruments, and howls and grunts along while playing eccentric solos on his keyboard.

Hermeto's lastfew London visits have seen him playing with much larger ensembles, and Ronnie's seems rather too small a stage to contain such an extravagant and eccentric talent. But this is a distilled, concentrated version of his show rather than Hermeto redux. His remarkableseptet features his wife, Aline Morena (she plays vocals and eight-string guitar; she also tap dances while slapping her thighs), and his son Fabio Pascoal (playing cowbells, tambourines and sea shells). The rhythm section lays down polyrhythmic sambas that lurch from 4/4 to 6/8 to 7/4. Saxophonist and flautist Vinicius Dorin plays angular melodies, while Morena scats and sings in unison with Dorin, sometimes in an eerily high-pitched dog whistle.

Short and stocky, Hermeto, 77, wears a lurid palm-tree T-shirt and a leather cowboy hat with a long, snow-white beard, like Santa Claus transplanted to tropical Brazil. He stands to the side, usually playing a Nord Stage keyboard, sometimes switching to melodica or button accordion. He often imitates his soloing bandmates, but it's like viewing them through a wobbly fairground mirror. His solos are scribbly, percussive, often comic, but always compelling.

This is dense, uncompromising electric jazz, leavened by slapstick. In the middle of the final song each band member picks up a percussion instrument and marches off-stage as a samba band. They're probably still playing in their dressing room now.

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